


Transaction of ownership

by sherlockcrush



Series: The Contract [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bloodplay, Bondage, Branding, Consent Issues, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, More tags will be added as I write, Possessive Behavior, Sex Toys, Vampire Mycroft, Vampire Sex, Vampire Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-06 23:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockcrush/pseuds/sherlockcrush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John dutifully follows his master, vampire Sherlock Holmes, to dangerous crimes, but other predators have their eye on the doctor. All the while, Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade send knowing smiles their way as they stumble towards something more than just a contract. </p><p>The first part of the series, "Contractual Offering," should be read before this if you haven't already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of Italian at the end.
> 
> Note: The haversack jacket that John wears in the series is described in detail on the delightfully helpful Sherlockology site: http://www.sherlockology.com/wardrobe/black-coat-john-watson

Crouching on the ground, next to the warehouse, John reached back under his jacket and pulled out his Browning. He smiled slightly to himself, eyes darting around the scene thoughtfully, as he checked the gun for readiness. It had taken a bit of arguing, but he had managed to convince Sherlock that he would be a bit more comfortable at crime scenes if he wasn’t wearing a tailored suit. He now sported a Haversack shooting jacket. The best, of course, that a Holmes’s money could buy. John had to admit that the jacket was rather comfortable. 

“Right,” DI Lestrade said as he crouched down next to John. He was wearing a bullet-proof vest and had disposed of his normal trench coat as it would only be in the way. “The first team will go in at the start with Sherlock. Once they’ve cleared the room, the second team can go in. I’ll be with them.” Around them, other officers were getting ready to move into action. “John, you need to stay here.” John opened his mouth to protest. “No. I know, I know. You’re a man of action. I get it. But, um, this is a dangerous situation. And we need to be careful. Also, he’d seriously throw a fit if you got hurt,” he finished with a shrug.

At the same time, Greg and John looked up the wall of the warehouse to where Sherlock Holmes crouched half-way up, seemingly effortlessly holding onto the wall. His eyes were focused on the distant door where the teams would enter the building. As if hearing them, he turn suddenly and looked down at the two men. 

John flushed, flustered as if he was a school boy caught doing something wrong at recess. He smiled tightly and glanced at Greg, who was chuckling softly. “The two of you,” he muttered with a shake of his head.

“I can help, you know,” John said, trying to keep the whining sound out of his voice.

“Look. It’s dangerous. This fucker has an armory in there and he’s a bit unstable. Stay here and protect the medical team that’s on backup, ok?”

John took a deep breath and nodded. Greg moved off and John looked up again at Sherlock. Vampire. Blood drinker. His master. His contract, sold by his poor parents when he was a child, had been claimed by Sherlock just shy of the expiration when he was 34. They were now four months into….whatever it was that was they were doing. On paper, John was in Sherlock’s personal aide, under contract for his services. For whatever the vampire required. Literally. He kept their flat at 221B Baker Street relatively clean and did the shopping. Mostly he helped out at crime scenes by providing medical information on corpses. They ran around London like energetic schoolboys. It was the most fun he’d had in a long time.

But it was the other bits that made John nervous. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Sherlock, he just didn’t know what they were _doing._ Sherlock fed somewhat regularly from John, using him as a donor for blood. Just thinking of the feedings made John’s cock ache in his pants. They were erotic and overwhelming and made John feel like the center of Sherlock’s whole world. But if John tried to ask questions, to _talk_ about it, Sherlock changed the subject, or rushed off. And a couple of times now, they had wanked together without Sherlock feeding from him. Did that make them lovers?

And then were was his friend, Greg Lestrade, who watched them from the corner of his eyes, periodically smiling at them knowingly before slipping into sleek black sedans that appeared from nowhere. Which brought John’s thoughts to Sherlock’s erudite older brother, Mycroft Holmes, Greg’s… boyfriend? He shook his head. You couldn’t describe Mycroft Holmes of all people as anyone’s _boyfriend_. Mycroft periodically kidnapped John in one of his cars. He would ask questions. 

_How are things between you and my brother?_

_Is he feeding regularly?_

_How often?_

_Has he given you anything of his to carry to show that you belong to him?_

_Dr. Watson, of course you belong to him._

_Has he met with any other donors or is he feeding solely from you?_

John resolutely refused to answer questions related to personal things between him and Sherlock. But the questions always seemed to lead, if obscurely, to the same place. It all felt like a game where he failed to understand the goal.

He glanced up again and found himself under the intense scrutiny of bright grey eyes. John swallowed as Sherlock watched at him, unblinking. Not for the first time, he wondered if the vampire could read his mind. He sincerely hoped not.

A group of police officers began moving their way down the street towards the warehouse where a serial killer was holed up with what was likely a rather impressive arsenal of weapons obtained through mob connections. The second team took their places, and John moved backwards to give them more room. Greg glanced his way once with a nod while speaking softly into a police radio. Around John, officers stood at attention, weapons drawn.

Down the street, the first team moved down the street in short spurts of movement. Above them, Sherlock moved smoothly over the side of the buildings. John was mesmerized by the smooth, alien like motions of the vampire. It was an odd sight, and John noticed some of the officers watching Sherlock’s movement surreptitiously. 

“Eyes on the target, people.” Lestrade’s voice crackled over the radios, and a number of them shifted nervously.

John took several deep breaths, steadying himself as he had done numerous times in Afghanistan. He wished he could see what was happening. He imagined Sherlock crouched on the wall over the door, impatiently waiting for the human team to get into place. 

A sudden crash and shouting had everyone tense and shifting on their feet. John shifted his weight, rolling his shoulder that was getting stiff in the cool autumn air from his own tension. The shouts and noises from the radios were confusing and indistinguishable. Several shots were fired. 

And then silence. John counted the seconds and made it to five when Lestrade’s voice came out clear over the radios. “Team two, move!”

Around John, the second team rushed down the street and into the building. He grit his teeth, wanting desperately to run into the fray with them. But a glance at the medical backup group told him that he had a duty to them should the action move in their direction. The medical people were milling around an ambulance across the way, and John stood a bit apart from them. He carefully watched the warehouse where several well-armed policemen were stationed around the door.

John stood up and took a deep steadying breath, and tensed. Instincts honed on the battlefield told him that someone was standing behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He covertly readied the gun in his right hand and turned around. 

The man standing directly behind him was absolutely still. Too still. His eyes were bright and sharp, and focused on John. Slowly his mouth formed a smile that did not reach his eyes. His lips parted to reveal a pair of sharp fangs. A vampire. 

John took an involuntary step back. 

The vampire stepped forward into his personal space. He sniffed the air. “Clearly you’re _someone’s_ pet. You smell rather edible.” He pointedly looked John up and down. “But you aren’t wearing any marker. Unclaimed, hmm?” He reached out and ran the tip of a finger down the shell of John’s left ear.

John stumbled backwards. “Excuse me! You have no right! Besides, I’m under contract, and –“

The vampire rolled his eyes. He stepped forwards and pushed John into the warehouse wall, pinning his hands at his sides as he did. “I’m sure that your…master won’t care. He probably won’t even notice. Come now, puppy, play nice,” the vampire said in a soothing voice that belied his dangerous intentions.

The vampire grinned maliciously and leaned down to John’s neck. He licked once at the skin, causing the John to twist away and shudder. John struggled against him and the vampire tsked softly. He narrowed his eyes and John suddenly felt…oddly tired. No, tired wasn’t the right word. It was as if he suddenly couldn’t collect the energy to resist anymore. He went limp, held up and against the wall by the vampire’s body pressing against him. 

John’s head was titled to the side, and he cried out when he felt two sharp fangs slice through the skin. It _hurt_! Unlike Sherlock’s bites, which were pleasurable, this bite caused a sharp burning pain to spread from the puncture site. He whimpered, unable to struggle.

"Cosa pensi di fare, Alessandro?”

John next cry died at the familiar voice. The vampire turned and snarled at the intruder. “Non sono affari tuoi, Mycroft!” 

“On the contrary, that man is in my brother’s care. That makes this very much my business.” Mycroft stood casually, idly twirling his ever-present umbrella as if they were discussing the weather.

The vampire Alessandro snarled and turned, bringing John with him so that his back was pinned to the vampire’s front. He held him there with one arm around John’s chest; the other hand painfully held onto his hair, keeping John’s neck arched and open. “Oh, davvero? Non vedo alcuna pretesa su di lui. E odori divina. Sicuramente l'hai annusato?” He smirked and sniffed at John’s neck.

Mycroft frowned. “"Questo non è né qui né là, cugino. Dico che è così, e la mia parola è definitiva in questa famiglia."

John panted as adrenaline coursed through his system. He had no idea what they were saying, but Mycroft was clearly unhappy. Lestrade ran up to them and stopped just next to Mycroft, gun drawn even though he must know it would be useless. There was a gash on the back of his right hand, and blood dribbled down his skin. 

John’s eyes flicked around and he suddenly realized something odd. Various medical personnel and police officers were milling around them, but no one seemed to notice them. As he watched, one of the nurses looked in his direction, but her eyes seemed to slip to the side, as if she couldn’t quite focus on them. Before he had time to consider this enigma, he heard a soft thump behind them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sherlock’s voice was low and dangerously soft as he prowled around them into John’s line of sight. He took a deep breath, feeling a bit safer with Sherlock’s presence. 

“Ah, Sherlock! Mycroft insiste sul fatto che questo boccone saporito appartiene a voi.”

“Lo fa, Alessandro. Rilasciare lui subito.”

“Ma lui non ha alcuna, cugino segno. Si dovrebbe prendere più cura delle tue cose. Potrebbe vengono per nuocere.”

The vampire released John and roughly pushed him into Sherlock, who caught him easily and pulled him flush against his chest to hold him up. It was then that John noticed that Sherlock’s claws were out as the tips just barely pushed against his skin through the layers of clothing. He winced but stayed silent. A quick glance showed him that Sherlock’s fangs were out and his eyes, normally bright, were dark and angry.

“Cosa ci fai qui, Alessandro?” Mycroft asked. Lestrade lowered his gun at a gesture from the elder Holmes brother.

"Sono venuto per ordine di mia madre. Lei vuole sapere se le voci sono vere. "

John slowly was able to move and he surreptitiously eased Sherlock’s hands so that the claws weren’t digging into him. He looked around, noting that no one else seemed to be paying them any attention.

“Diceria?” Mycroft asked.

"Se il capo della famiglia Holmes ha finalmente scelto un compagno. E sembra che si ha. " He prowled towards Lestrade, but was stopped when Mycroft held up his umbrella as a barrier. 

Mycroft smiled tightly, chin lifting in defiance, his eyes narrowing. “"Questo non è anche la tua azienda fino a diventare ufficiale, se mai."

Alessandro laughed. “Sempre il politico, Mycroft. Avevo dimenticato quanto scivoloso si è.” He looked closely at Lestrade, sniffing the air. “Non solo portare il vostro marchio, ma lui sa di te.” He took another step forward but was stopped when Mycroft bodily stepped between them. “Ah. Si prende più cura del vostro animale domestico che il vostro fratellino.” He threw Sherlock a smirk. Sherlock snarled, lips pulled back to show his teeth in an animalistic motion.

Alessandro held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Fine, fine. Let’s not fight. We’re family after all.” Neither Holmes brother moved. “I will…tell my mother that you are still working out the details. But you should move soon, cousin. A strong man like this will gain the attention of…others.”

Mycroft’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Give our regards to your mother for us, cousin. Tell her that if something happens, she will be the first to know.”

“Excellent. She will be pleased.” Alessandro turned to walk away. He paused as he passed by Sherlock, who was still holding John to his chest. “"Sai, cugino, se ho posseduto un animale domestico che puzzava così, non avrei mai lasciato il mio cazzo lasciare il suo culo.”

Sherlock growled, eyes narrowed. “Leave. Now.”

Alessandro shrugged. “If you tire of him, let me know, eh? I’d love to taste him again.” He gave John a leer. With that, the vampire climbed up the wall and disappeared over the roof.

John let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, and he let his head fall back against Sherlock’s chest. 

“You can put the gun away. He won’t be back,” Mycroft said to Greg as he turned to Sherlock. The brothers frowned at each other and Mycroft tapped the tip of his umbrella thoughtfully. “We should get you both back to your flat. My car will take you.”

Sherlock nodded and released John from his grip enough to walk them to the sleek black limo that was waiting. 

“Come home, Gregory.”

“Mycroft, I can’t. You know I can’t.” Lestrade stood tall, facing his lover. “This was my operation. Not only is there a mountain of paperwork to do for every bullet fired, but it’s my responsibility. To my team. They need me.” 

Mycroft made a face that his boyfriend had identified as the ‘I’m going to have to pull some manipulative stunt to get what I want’ look. “Gregory, you must know how hard it is to watch you enter dangerous situations.” He ran the back of his hand down the other man’s cheek.

“I know, love. I know.” He glanced around quickly, noting that none of his people were paying attention. “We still under your invisible bubble?”

“Of course. I value our privacy.”

Greg smiled and leaned up to kiss him. “I will” kiss “be home tonight. By 6. Promise.” Kiss. “And then you can explain to me what just happened.” He gave Mycroft a stern look.

“Very well. I shall have dinner waiting for you.”

“Good, because you need to eat, too, ok?”

Mycroft's eyes slipped down to the cut on Greg's hand. "Perhaps a snack now?" he asked, eyes glinting as he raised Greg's hand to his lips. Locking eyes, his tongue snaked out and slowly licked at the trail of blood. Greg swallowed a whimper as his lover lapped at the wound, using his saliva to heal it faster than humanly normal.

"Bloody tease," Greg muttered before walking back to his team. 

From inside the limo, John sleepily watched Mycroft and Greg interact. He had to admit they were rather sweet together. He had never seen the imperious Mycroft Holmes act so human with anyone else. He leaned his head back on Sherlock’s shoulder. _Why was it so hard now to stay awake?_

“It’s because of the reses*,” Sherlock said softly.

“Hmm?”

“The reses. It will make you sluggish. It’s a skill that Alessandro is apparently not very skilled in since he seems to have overdosed you. You shouldn’t be this soporific if he knew what he was doing.”

“Wait. Wha?”

Sherlock chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest where John was leaning against him. “I’ll explain when you’re awake.” 

Mycroft slipped into the car and sat on the seat opposite them. “Well, that was unpleasant. One of my people alerted me that he had entered city limits and I came here.”

“Well, are you?” Sherlock asked after a pause.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t act stupid, brother. Are you going to bond with Lestrade?”

“We have...touched on the subject, but not at length.”

Sherlock snorted and watched London pass by through the heavily tinted window.

“It appears you are spending enough time with him that the family in Italy has noticed. Perhaps you should make a decision soon.”

Mycroft chose not to answer. “And you, brother? He’s right, if crude and tactless. You shouldn’t allow John to wander around unclaimed. The heart of a warrior. And strong and loyal. He is too…tempting for our kind.”

Sherlock glanced down to where John was sleeping lightly on his shoulder and frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, Mycroft was correct. He should have laid official claim before now, but he couldn’t be sure…

“You’re stronger. More _alive_ ,” Sherlock said softly. “With him by your side.”

Mycroft’s blue eyes met his, face a careful mask devoid of emotion. He blinked once and then re-crossed his legs.

They were silent until the car reached 221B. Sherlock managed to rouse John enough to guide him inside, and then he carried him up the stairs and deposited him on the couch. Sherlock covered John with a blanket from his bed. He could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. Sherlock knelt next to the couch and gently tilted John's head to the side. Two rough puncture wounds were visible. The skin was red and irritated, and Sherlock felt another growl rising in his throat. He was tempted to find Alessandro and rip his throat out. Instead, he leaned down and carefully licked the wounds, healing them. The scent of John welled up, tempting him to bite and take, but he shook his head, quickly moving across the room to the window. 

Sherlock’s mobile beeped with an incoming text message.

_Yes. –MH_

TBC

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of reses. Latin: immobile, quiescent
> 
> Translation of Italian (using Google translate. Please excuse my bad Italian):
> 
> "Cosa pensi di fare, Alessandro?”  
> "What are you doing, Alessandro?"
> 
> “Non sono affari tuoi, Mycroft!”  
> “None of your business, Mycroft!”
> 
> “Oh, davvero? Non vedo alcuna pretesa su di lui. E odori divina. Sicuramente l'hai annusato?”  
> "Oh, really? I see no claim on him. He smells divine. Surely you smelled him?”
> 
> “"Questo non è né qui né là, cugino. Dico che è così, e la mia parola è definitiva in questa famiglia."  
> "That is neither here nor there, cousin. I say that it is so, and my word is final in this family. "
> 
> “Ah, Sherlock! Mycroft insiste sul fatto che questo boccone saporito appartiene a voi.”  
> “Ah, Sherlock! Mycroft insists that this tasty morsel belongs to you.”
> 
> “Lo fa, Alessandro. Rilasciare lui subito.”  
> "He does, Alessandro. Release him immediately. "
> 
> “Ma lui non ha alcuna, cugino segno. Si dovrebbe prendere più cura delle tue cose. Potrebbe vengono per nuocere.”  
> "But he has no sign, cousin. You should take better care of your things. He might come to harm."
> 
> “Cosa ci fai qui, Alessandro?”  
> “What are you doing here, Alessandro?”
> 
> "Sono venuto per ordine di mia madre. Lei vuole sapere se le voci sono vere. "  
> "I came at my mother’s behest. She wants to know if the rumors are true."
> 
> “Diceria?”  
> “Rumors?”
> 
> "Se il capo della famiglia Holmes ha finalmente scelto un compagno. E sembra che si ha."  
> “If the head of the Holmes family has finally chosen a mate. And it seems that you have.”
> 
> "Questo non è anche la tua azienda fino a diventare ufficiale, se mai."  
> "That is none of your business until it becomes office, if ever."
> 
> “Sempre il politico, Mycroft. Avevo dimenticato quanto scivoloso si è.” He looked closely at Lestrade, sniffing the air. “Non solo portare il vostro marchio, ma lui sa di te.” He took another step forward but was stopped when Mycroft bodily stepped between them. “Ah. Si prende più cura del vostro animale domestico che il vostro fratellino.” He threw Sherlock a smirk. Sherlock snarled, lips pulled back to show his teeth in an animalistic motion.
> 
> “Always the politician, Mycroft. I had forgotten how slippery you are.” He looked closely at Lestrade, sniffing the air. “Not only is he wearing your claim, but he smells like you. "He took another step forward but was stopped when Mycroft bodily stepped between them. “Ah. You take better care of your pet than does your little brother.” He threw Sherlock a smirk. Sherlock snarled, lips pulled back to show his teeth in an animalistic motion.
> 
> "Sai, cugino, se ho posseduto un animale domestico che puzzava così, non avrei mai lasciato il mio cazzo lasciare il suo culo.”  
> “You know, cousin, if I owned a pet that smelled like him, I would never let my cock leave his ass.”


	2. Chapter 2

DI Gregory Lestrade looked at his watch as he unlocked the front door to the Belgravia flat he shared with Mycroft. _Shit. 6:45._ He had promised Mycroft that he would be home by 6pm. He sighed and closed the door behind him and hung up his coat, hoping Mycroft was in a slightly forgiving mood. He turned around and nearly yelped. Mycroft had snuck up on him and was standing less than a foot away, watching him silently.

“Shit. Myc don’t _do_ that to me. You scared me.”

The vampire smirked and backed his boyfriend slowly up against the wall. Greg was tall, but Mycroft was taller by half a foot, and Greg let his head fall back against the wall with a soft thump and looked up at him.

Mycroft leaned their foreheads together. “Gregory, watching you run into that building frightened _me_ ,” he murmured.

Greg frowned. He knew that this man, this vampire, didn’t frighten easily. He swallowed. “I’m sorry, love. It had to be done. It’s my division.”

Mycroft idly thumbed Greg’s right hand where it had been cut earlier in the day. He could feel that the wound was healing beneath the gauze bandage. “I know. But I simply can’t bear the thought of you being hurt, of….losing you.”

“You won’t. Really. I’m very careful. And I’ve got one hell of a boyfriend backing me up.”

Mycroft smiled. He brought the wounded hand up to his mouth and kissed the palm before claiming Greg’s lips in a passionate kiss.

After a minute, the vampire pulled back. “You need to eat. I’ve kept your meal warm.”

Greg followed him into the kitchen, guiltily rubbing the back of his neck. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and took a long swig, sighing happily when he put it down.

“Thanks. I guess I needed that,” Greg said, noting that he’d drunk nearly half the bottle in one go.

“I suppose you did have a long day,” Mycroft said with a smile.

Greg snorted. “A long month more like it. It took a long time to set this up. So glad that bastard is off the streets.”

“You’ve been working too hard. Come, the London Broncos game is on.” Mycroft carried a tray of food and a goblet of blood into the sitting room, where they could relax on the large plush couch and watch rugby. Greg followed, slipping off his shoes and socks as he did. 

After a couple of bites of food though, Greg muted the TV and turned to his lover. “Ok, spill. What was that about this afternoon?”

Mycroft winced internally, having preferred to put off this particular discussion. “I was rather hoping you’d forgotten.”

Greg snorted. “Good chance, that. Clearly that pri-guy was your cousin. So you’ve got an unpleasant cousin. Who doesn’t?”

“It’s not exactly that simple. And yes, he’s a prick. I’m sure you noticed his reaction to you and John.” He nodded. Mycroft took a deep breath, a reflex considering he didn’t actually need to breathe. “Not all of our kind approves of taking human…mates. It’s a bit unconventional in some circles.”

“What, like interracial dating?”

“In a way. That both Sherlock and I have, apparently, become involved with humans makes us noteworthy, though not really rare. Our relations in Italy is from a very old and powerful lineage. At one point, our two families nearly ruled most of Europe.”

“But we’re not, um, mates.”

“Ah. Yes.” Mycroft flushed a bit, a feat considering his normally pale pallor. “That is what Alessandro was here to ascertain. Apparently some of our kind are talking.”

Greg frowned and put his food tray on the side table. “Talking.”

Mycroft fidgeted, brushing invisible dust off of his deep blue waistcoat. Seeing this sign of nervousness, Greg pulled him back into his arms and wrapped them around his slim waist. “Go on,” he said softly.

“Alessandro came at his mother’s behest. Victoire is, well, she’s very old. Very powerful. She has a large number of vampires, thralls, and humans under her control. And she hates not knowing things. That she sent a family member instead of mere minion means that she is very…concerned. She sent him to find out whether the rumor is true that I’ve finally chosen a mate.” He decidedly did not look at Greg as he said this last part. 

Greg struggled to keep his voice neutral. “And have you?”

\---

John awoke to the soft sounds of a violin. _Sherlock._ He turned onto his side and slowly sat up on the couch with a wince. Sherlock stopped playing and approached him with a glass of water.

“You’ve been asleep for five hours.”

“Five hours? In the middle of the day?” John asked incredulously, taking the offered glass.

“Mm. Drink the water. You’re dehydrated.” John drank, feeling the water wash over his parched throat. He looked around the room with a disoriented frown, noting his shoes placed neatly next to the couch and his jacket thrown over the back of a kitchen chair. His Browning was sitting on top of its case on the mantelpiece. “There is Thai food in the kitchen. I took the liberty of ordering something for you. You need nourishment.”

“Thanks,” John said, shaking his head to rid it of the fuzzy feeling. “What _was_ that?” he asked over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. 

Sherlock put away his violin and watched John intently. “It’s called reses. It enables a vampire to immobilize someone temporarily. If used lightly, it can make you slow. Someone once described it to me as ‘moving through molasses.’ If used with a heavier touch, it can completely immobilize a human, though not indefinitely.”

John sat with a plate of thai basil beef at the kitchen table. With the first bite he realized how hungry he felt. “Is it supposed to knock you out like that?” he asked between bites.

“No. Alessandro is either incompetent, unpracticed, or very nervous and sloppy. Probably some combination thereof as he is young and somewhat impulsive. He used it far too heavily on you, which is why you felt woozy and slept afterwards. If used properly, you won’t subsequently feel negative effects.”

“Hmm, sounds almost like a drug overdose,” John said thoughtfully between bites. “Probably something that affects the basal forebrain-cingulate regions of the brain.”

Sherlock smiled at John’s medical analysis. “How do you feel now? Still tired? Dizzy?”

“No…just, disoriented I suppose from sleeping so long in the middle of the day. Why?”

“Heavy use of the reses ability can be dangerous. As a precaution, I have been monitoring your breathing and heart rate while you were sleeping.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“It was nothing. I have merely stayed in the same room and listened to your breathing and heart rate,” Sherlock said with a nonchalant shrug.

John paused and smiled as he imagined the energetic vampire who always dashed about like an enthusiastic child, staying willingly in the room, listening to his vital signs. “Well, thank you for looking out for me,” John said.

Sherlock blinked slowly at him, eyes darkening ever so slightly.

“So…what did this Alessandro want? He’s your cousin?”

Sherlock sat in a chair across from John and looked at him intently. “Yes, we have distant family in Italy. Alessandro is our cousin, if somewhat removed. They are – rather powerful.”

John blinked when, after a moment, nothing else was forthcoming. “Ok. Why did he come here then? It didn’t look like a very friendly chat.”

Sherlock snorted. “No. He has never been one for diplomacy. He wanted to see whether the rumors are true that Mycroft has chosen a mate.”

“I’m going to assume that by mate you don’t mean friends to watch rugby with.”

Sherlock chuckled softly. “Vampires can, if we choose, make a commitment not entirely unlike human marriage. However, it is rather more…permanent. A blending of souls, if you will. It’s not something to be undertaken lightly.”

“And this is the first time that Mycroft has spent so much time with someone like Greg?”

“Not just someone _like_ him. Mycroft has, over his years, made it a special mission to not form attachments. Emotions, attachments, these are not strengths to him. This is the first time that he has _ever_ formed such an attachment to anyone, and the interest is compounded by the fact that Greg is human.”

John nods and chews thoughtfully. “So is he going to make Greg his mate?”

“I have, at times, encouraged him to consider such a plan. Though he would need Greg’s approval first, of course.”

“Well I should hope so. Do you think he’ll actually ask?”

“I would imagine that today’s events would be an impetus to speak on such a topic.”

“And me?” John asked casually. “What did Alessandro want with me?”

“Ah. That. He found your…scent appealing. Enough to attempt to force your loyalties to onto him.”

“Whatever he said seemed to make you upset.”

“Yes…” Sherlock said slowly. “Tomorrow we will go to the Blood Registry Office. It is time to take further measures to ensure that someone like Alessandro cannot act in such a way towards you. It will….formalize your relationship to me. And to the Holmes family.”

“Right. Ok. Do I need to do anything to prepare?”

“No. I took the liberty of making an appointment for us at 1pm.” Sherlock stood up abruptly. “Ah! The eyes are done!” Sherlock said after a glance at the wall clock.

John sighed mentally and pointedly took his food to the couch as Sherlock pulled several jars of eye balls out of the fridge. They eyes were sitting in different liquids and showed various states of decay. Sherlock leaned down, looking at them intently and made notes on a pad of paper.

John pulled out his laptop and turned away from the kitchen so that he didn’t have to see the jars while eating.

“Wear the dark charcoal suit tomorrow,” Sherlock said, not looking up. 

“Right,” John replied as he texted Greg.

_Hey, what’s the Blood Registry Office? –JW_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided it was time to live up to the 'explicit' tag. Cheers! :)

_“Alessandro came at his mother’s behest. Victoire is, well, she’s very old. Very powerful. She has a large number of vampires, thralls, and humans under her control. And she hates not knowing things. That she sent a family member instead of mere minion means that she is very…concerned. She sent him to find out whether the rumor is true that I’ve finally chosen a mate.” He decidedly did not look at Greg as he said this last part._

_Greg struggled to keep his voice neutral. “And have you?”_

Mycroft stilled and then, after a moment, twisted around in Greg’s arms so that he could look him in his eyes. He searched Greg’s dark brown eyes, trying to guess at the man’s emotions: hope, love, fear, nervousness, longing are all warring with each other despite Greg’s obvious attempts to remain calm. He wasn’t practiced like Mycroft in this area.

Mycroft considered how to go about it. For all that he’d thought of this, he suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. His planned speech suddenly seemed too flowery and stilted. _Straightforward is best._ “I – I would hope that – I mean we have been spending substantial amounts of time in each other’s company, and it would seem appropriate to further substantiate on these relations – I mean –“

Greg chuckled softly at the usually composed man. He placed a finger over Mycroft’s lips. “Mycroft, what are you trying to say?”

Mycroft placed Greg’s hand on his cheek, closing his eyes at the feeling of warmth. He could _hear_ the blood pulsing in the ulnar artery just beneath the thin skin on the inside of Greg’s wrist. 

_So alive. So beautifully alive._ He opened his eyes. “Gregory, I – I love you. Will you become my mate?”

For a moment, neither spoke or moved. And then Greg launched himself at the vampire, pinning him to the couch and kissing his mouth long and hard. When he pulled back, he said, “Yes, yes you fool. Like I’d say no.”

Mycroft broke into a very uncharacteristic grin and caressed his cheek. “You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to.”

“Actually, I did a bit of looking around….And I might have asked for some information from my future brother-in-law,” Greg admitted with a smirked.

“You did research? On – vampire bonding?”

Greg shrugged. “I wanted to know what was possible. But I – well, I didn’t want to scare you off by bringing it up.” Greg flushed an buried his face in the crook of Mycroft’s shoulder.

Mycroft caressed his hair and placed soft kisses on head. “You’ve made me very happy, Gregory.”

Greg lifted his head. “Good,” he murmured, and when he kissed him, this time it was slow and tender.

They kissed, becoming more fervent and heated. Mycroft spread his legs, cradling Greg between them. “Before we get too far,” Mycroft said, pulling away, “Promise me two things: one, that tomorrow we’ll talk about the bonding. I want to ensure that you know everything before we proceed and make it official.”

“Of course. I have questions for you. And the other?”

“That you’ll stay home with me for the next two days. You need a break, and I’m determined to help you relax.” The feral grin that Mycroft gave Greg should have made him shiver in fear. Instead he shivered in aroused anticipation.

“And what will you do with me for the next two days to…help me relax?”

Mycroft smiled and swiftly flipped them over so that he was on top of Greg on the couch. “I think that I should tie you down and not let you leave the house for at least a day. ”

Greg groaned, his cock giving a happy leap in his pants at those words. “Yesss, please, Mycroft.”

“Oh, we’re not at the point where you beg, love.” Mycroft licked the side of his neck.

“So,” Greg said, pushing his hands under Mycroft’s crisp white shirt and up expanse of his back, “now what?”

“So many choices,” Mycroft said softly. “Though do I believe I said something about tying you up so that you can’t leave my side.”

“Mmm, are you sure? That means I can’t do more of this,” Greg said, teasing as he ran finger tips down Mycroft’s spine.

“Hmm, good point. Perhaps I’ll let you up the second day so that you can do it some more.”

Greg smiled. The peace was disturbed by his phone pinging with an incoming text. They both groaned. “I’ll let the chief know that I’m on leave so they won’t bother me again.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have taken the liberty of telling the Yard that you will be out for at least two days. Also, the paperwork necessary for today’s operation is complete,” Mycroft said without a hint of remorse as he reached over and handed the mobile to him. 

Greg snorted softly. He knew he should be upset over Mycroft’s interference, but somehow, after the day he’d had, he simply didn’t care. Mycroft was taking care of him, and he was ok with that. He read the message from John and his eyebrows rose. He showed it to the vampire. 

“Ah, good. He’s already told John. Sherlock informed me this afternoon that he plans to take John to the Blood Registry Office tomorrow to make an official claim on him.”

“Hmm, well that’s a good thing, right? Today was pretty frightening. I thought your little brother was going to actually rip that prick’s head off.” 

“Yes. I had hoped it wouldn’t take him so long, but I suppose nothing has actually happened to John in the past four months.” He paused and sniffed Greg’s neck with a happy hum. “I took you, what, two months after our first date?”

Greg smiled a bit, remembering when Mycroft had brought him to the same office a couple of years ago to go through the same ritual. “Yeah. Scared me to death actually.”

“Mmm, yes. And I appreciated the effort, Gregory.”

“I appreciated that you looked after me so well afterwards,” he said, caressing Mycroft’s cheeks.

Mycroft frowned, face pinched in pain. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, running his finger behind Greg’s ear.

“Love, I asked you to stop apologizing for it a long time ago. It was necessary.”

“I know. But still…..” Mycroft gently turned Greg’s head to the right and placed a kiss on the skin behind his ear.

“Don’t go all soft on me now, Myc. And I mean that in more ways than one.” He jerked his hips up meaningfully. Arms half-wrapped around Mycroft’s shoulders, Greg typed out a quick reply to John.

_It’s for him to put a claim on you. Officially. Mycroft took me a while ago. Dress nicely. They’re going to take your picture. –GL_

Mycroft silently took the mobile from his hand placed it on the table. Beneath him, Greg relaxed into the couch as his lover nuzzled his neck.

“You should eat, love,” Greg said softly. “I’ve eaten.”

“I’ll wait. You’re tired and I might take it to be an affront to my skills as a lover if you fall asleep now…even if it is from loss of blood.”

Greg laughed. “Good point.” He took a deep breath, sighing as Mycroft nuzzled and lapped at his neck, teasing both of them with the promise of more later.

“How about starting with the rope after I take a shower? I could do with washing off the grime of today.”

“Only if I’m allowed to aide you,” Mycroft replied with a grin.

“Deal,” Greg said as his lover helped him off the couch.

In their en-suite bathroom, Mycroft started the shower while Greg stripped off his clothes. Mycroft did the same, and he pulled Greg under the warm spray. The DI leaned back against the wall of the large shower and sighed happily as the hot water cascaded down his bare skin.

Mycroft watched, marveling at the sensual pleasure Greg took in such a simple thing. He soaped up a loofah and picked up Greg’s left arm. He ran the loofah over the skin, letting the water wash off the suds, and then trailed kisses up the sensitive underside. Greg groaned softly, watching him from beneath hooded eyes. Mycroft repeated the action with the other arm, but this time he held the right arm up and gently nipped at the skin on the inside of the elbow. He allowed his fangs to sink into the skin, eliciting a sharp hiss from the other man. Mycroft drank only a little and whet his appetite before lapping the incisions closed.

Greg reached for the loofah and Mycroft batted his hands away. “Let me take care of you, love. Let me tend to your every need…though perhaps some sooner than others,” he said with a smile as he ran his hands down Greg’s chest and pointedly avoided touching his half-hard cock on the way down. 

The vampire knelt on the tiled floor in front of Greg and proceeded to wash his legs. He ran his hands up, ever so temptingly close to the area between his legs.

“Please, Myc,” Greg hissed.

“And end this delightful activity so soon?” Mycroft said before biting into the skin on Greg’s inner thigh. “Turn around, love.”

Greg obediently turned around and rested his arms on a sturdy towel bar. Without being asked, he spread his legs a bit wider than shoulder-width. For a moment, Mycroft sat back on his heels and admired the image of Gregory Lestrade with water cascading down his back. He decided that this was possibly one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen.

Slowly, Mycroft ran his hands up the sides of Greg’s legs. He could feel the muscles, hard and strong, flex under his touch. He paused with his thumbs in the crook behind his knees. The femoral artery pulsed softly under the skin, tempting him.

“Do you have any idea, Gregory, how utterly desirable, erotic, and…stimulating you are?”

Greg looked down at him over his shoulder. “Look who’s talking.”

Mycroft smiled and stood up and pressed himself flush against Greg’s body. “I have seen many sensuous beings in my years, my love, but you elicit such strong responses that sometimes I don’t know if I can control myself around you.”

“Well then, don’t control yourself.” He pushed his hips back, making them both cry out.

Mycroft’s eyes darkened and closed his eyes. He stepped back and ran the loofah over Greg’s arse cheeks. Greg shivered. With one hand, the vampire spread the very enticing cheeks and ran the loofah down his cleft, knowing that the rough material would drive him insane.

“Fuck.” Greg squeezed his eyes closed and spread his legs more, shuddering as the rough material moved up and down his cleft.

“Mmm, yes I do hope so,” Mycroft said, keeping his voice soft and cultured. He reached for the second hand-held shower head on a hose and flicked it on. Grinning, he knelt behind Greg and held his arse cheeks open. Without warning, he aimed the harsh spray at Greg’s tight hole.

Greg howled. The water hit him right at his most sensitive spot, making his anus twitch and clench, and Mycroft held it there without mercy.

“I thought you’d like that,” Mycroft said, turning the spray away after a minute.

“Bastard,” Greg panted.

“Mmm, but you love it.”

“Heaven help me, I do.”

Mycroft nuzzled his neck. “You’ve just agreed to mate with a vampire. It’s a bit late to appeal to heaven.”

Greg laughed. He leaned his head back on Mycroft’s shoulder, purposefully making his neck open and inviting.

“Tease,” the vampire murmured. 

“Nope. Teases don’t plan to follow through. I plan to follow through with absolutely every whim we can come up with between us.”

“Hmmm, careful what you wish for. After all of my years, I can be rather….creative.” He ran his hands up to pinch a nipple before he turned the shower off. “Come, I want to take you to our bed and start my plans to ravish every inch of you.”

\---

John looked at the text from Greg and frowned. “He says they’re going to take my picture. Why do they need a picture of me? I thought they already had one from when you initially claimed the contract?”

“Mm, they do. But this is a bit more involved. This picture will go into the Holmes family registry. Dressing well also, according to Mycroft, lends a more serious note to the occasion.” He said this last bit while mimicking is brother’s cultured voice.

John smiled and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the vampire look at slides under the microscope. “Anything else I need to know about this?”

Bright grey eyes paused and flicked to him. Sherlock frowned, blinked once, and then looked back down. 

“Ok, what aren’t you telling me, Sherlock?”

“If I tell you now, you won’t like it, you won’t sleep, and you’ll be agitated by the time we reach the Blood Registry Office.”

“Hey, wait a minute. It sounds like I’d probably like to know what I’m getting into.”

“Yes, and as I’ve said, it will only serve to agitate you. Trust me.”

“Sherlock,” John said, leaning forward and placing his hands firmly on the kitchen table, “I have military training, you know. I like to know what I’m walking into.”

Sherlock sighed softly. “John, don’t you trust me? Or at least, don’t you trust Greg? He survived, obviously.”

John sputtered. “Well, I – sure – I mean, yes. But I’d still like to know. You can’t treat me like a-a toy! It’s a bit not good, you know.” He folded his arms crossly.

Sherlock stood up and approached him. He gently but firmly cupped John’s face between his hands. “Tomorrow probably won’t be pleasant, but it will make you safer around people like my prick of a cousin. Today was…too close.” He looked at him intently, as if willing him to understand.

“Well I suppose that would be…a good thing,” John admitted.

Sherlock smiled and ran is thumb over John’s lips. “Trust me, John.” He swallowed. “Please?”

John was so surprised by the plea, which in his memory the vampire had never used, that his mouth fell open.

“I want to keep you safe. Protecting you is my responsibility.” He paused. “Don’t ever tell Mycroft I said so. He’ll be offensively smug for a week.”

“Noted,” John replied, lips quirked up in a small smile.

Sherlock started to pull away but John wrapped his arms around him and pulled his mouth down to meet his own. He pushed his tongue into the vampire’s mouth, aggressively throwing himself at Sherlock.

“Does this mean you’re not angry with me?” Sherlock asked, his voice low.

 _You’re worried that I could be angry with you? Why?_

“No, but I’m letting you know that I still appreciate that you’re taking care of me.” John pulled back and gently pushed Sherlock away before turning towards the kitchen counter to make some tea.

Sherlock watched him for a moment. He was…perplexed by John H. Watson. The man broke many of the rules he had formed over the years when dealing with humans. Sherlock Holmes had been the subject of many, both men and women, who were infatuated and threw themselves at him. Hell, even other vampires resorted to such measures, drawn by either his good looks or his family's power. They were imbeciles who readily agreed with everything Sherlock said or did.

But John did none of those things. 

_How utterly fascinating._

\---

In their bedroom, Mycroft walked Greg backwards towards their massive bed. Greg lay back, legs spread a bit invitingly, eyebrow quirked in a silent challenge. Mycroft smiled. After decades of simpering sycophants, Gregory Lestrade was a breath of fresh air.

The vampire pulled open one of their drawers of toys and pulled out the silk ties. They were deep red and had been a birthday gift from Greg. 

“You’ve had a long day, love,” Mycroft said, kneeling on the bed next to him. “This way you don’t have to exert yourself too much.” He carefully tied the silk around his lover’s ankles and then wrapped up and around his calves and thighs. These he tied to the bed posts so that Greg’s legs were held up and open.

Mycroft stood back and admired him. The man was perfect.

Greg lifted himself on his forearms. “See something you like?”

“Yes. Always.” The vampire attached a black leather ring around the base of Greg’s cock and balls. He paused and then attached another cock ring to himself. Greg grinned, clearly loving the effect he had on him. Mycroft smacked his inner thigh. “Cheeky.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Greg said, putting on an overly innocent voice.

Chuckling, Mycroft knelt between his soon-to-be-mate’s spread legs. He slicked lubricant over a medium sized butt plug and gently worked it into Greg’s hole. When it was seated, he ran his hands lovingly over his silk-wrapped thighs. “I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer, Gregory.” His fingers dug into Greg’s shins. “I have been hungering for you…”

“Yesss, please,” Greg breathed. “Feed from me. Make me yours again.”

The vampire’s cock jumped at his acquiescent words. Mycroft licked up a stripe of skin on his inner left thigh that was exposed between the lines of red silk. Without warning, he bit down, slicing easily into the soft skin. Greg hissed and buried his fingers into the soft bedding beneath him. Mycroft let his strength, his own vitality unfurl, letting himself drink deeply. Greg’s blood practically _sang_ in his veins, urging him on to press his face shamelessly against him.

When his thirst had been quenched for the moment, he pulled back and lapped at the wound to heal it. He looked up Greg’s magnificent body to where the human was panting softly, eyes bright. “Tell me if it becomes too much.”

Greg swallowed and nodded. “Need you so badly.”

Mycroft gently stroked Greg’s cock. “And I _ache_ for you.” 

Slowly, Mycroft moved his mouth up Greg’s stomach and torso, pausing every inch to bite into the soft tempting skin, tasting what was uniquely Gregory Lestrade. By the time he reached Greg’s collar bone, the human beneath him was writhing, fingers clutching his normally tidy hair. 

“Fuck. Mycroft. Please!”

“I’m afraid, love, that I need to make use of that mouth.” Greg moaned as Mycroft straddled him and pushed his cock into Greg’s mouth. Mycroft hissed. For a man who had once been married to a woman, Greg was astoundingly good at giving head. He slowly pushed his cock in and out, careful not to push in too deeply. He suspected that Greg was too tired for such roughness tonight.

After a few minutes, Mycroft pulled out. His face flushed now as his body warmed with Greg’s fresh, vital blood. He knelt again between Greg’s legs and licked once up the length of his bound cock. Greg shuddered. 

“Is now the time to beg?” he panted.

The vampire laughed softly. “You must know by now, love, that I would rarely deny you anything.”

Greg looked down the length of his body into the vampire’s bright blue eyes. 

Mycroft smirked and began to lick and suck on Greg’s hard cock. It was weeping, and he pressed his tongue against the piss slit to get more of the taste of him. He paused, wondering idly if what he was about to try would be too much. He carefully watched Greg’s face as he let one fang slice straight into the side of the man’s cock. Greg whimpered, hands digging into the bedding, eyes squeezed shut tightly. 

Mycroft removed his fang quickly and then drank. He groaned at the taste of blood from such an intimate place. 

_Like ambrosia._

Greg’s submission was nearly overwhelming in its perfection.

Shaking a bit, Mycroft pulled the plug from Greg’s anus. He nearly ripped the cock ring off of himself, lined his cock up, and pushed just the head inside. With a sigh, he sank in deep and lay down on Greg’s supine body.

“So perfect,” the vampire whispered. 

“So yours,” Greg responded as his body relaxed around his lover’s cock.

“Mmm, yes. Mine.” Mycroft pulled his hips back and then thrust forward, building a hunger-driven rhythm. He shakily reached between them and removed the cock ring from Greg’s length.

Greg groaned and dug his finger nails into the vampire’s back as he futilely tried to get enough leverage to push up into his thrusts with his legs bound. “Fuuuck. Myc. More. Please!”

Mycroft grasped Greg’s chin and forced his head to the side to expose his neck. Greg hissed at the sudden feeling of sharp teeth piercing his skin. The vampire drank more, reveling in the feeling, the taste of it. Sensing that they were both close, he kept his fangs buried and roughly snapped his hips. He tried to hit Greg’s prostate with each thrust, making him cum hard. There was a sudden burst of blood that spurt into Mycroft’s mouth, and his eyes rolled up, overwhelmed. He came hard.

Greg panted heavily, pinned beneath Mycroft. He could feel blood dribbling down his neck for a moment before the vampire licked it up and lapped at the wounds. They lay like that for a while.

“So, gonna keep me like this all night?” Greg asked as he caressed Mycroft’s back.

“Mmm, it would be awfully convenient.”

Greg laughed and swatted his back. “But cold. Also, not so good for cuddling.”

Mycroft smiled and carefully untied him, unwrapped his toned legs from the silk and rolled him under the blankets. He pressed himself up against Greg’s back and pulled him close. “Let it never be known outside of this room that I cuddle.”

“Mmm, vampire Mycroft Holmes: makes his boyfriend dinner, gives great head, and cuddles after sex.”

Mycroft laughed. “It’s my unofficial resume. Now sleep. I plan to use you thoroughly tomorrow.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Offices of Vampiric Internal Affairs, I chose the London County Hall. I mean, why not? The official site has a picture of the building described in this chapter: http://www.londoncountyhall.com/about.html
> 
> I came up with the sigil image by looking through the internets and finding a reference to the lion as one of the Holmes family crests from Ireland: http://www.heraldicjewelry.com/holmes-crest-page.html. There's no actual image of the personal sigils I described for Mycroft and Sherlock as I can't draw worth crap.

The sedan carrying John and Sherlock was, as usual, sleek, black, and with very tinted windows. Sherlock was reading emails on his mobile and muttering about something about Lestrade needing to determine whether the fiancé had gone to university in Liverpool. 

John sat stiffly. One finger nervously tapped out a rhythm on his leg. He was, as requested, wearing the dark charcoal suit. They were running a bit late because Sherlock had burst into John’s room just as he was tying the knot in his tie and insisted that a different shirt would be better. John had sighed and stripped off his shirt and changed into the crisp white shirt and put on the offered tie. John had to admit that the new tie, which was deep green, made his eyes pop out. If Sherlock thought he looked good, he didn’t give any indication.

They stopped smoothly in front of the long, rounded building that housed the Offices of Vampiric Internal Affairs. It was pure white and sat, dignified, across the Thames from Parliament, like an unsubtle reminder that the vampires watched the workings of human government. 

Sherlock was half way up the front steps before John even got out of the car. He turned around impatiently and rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, John. You’d think I was taking you to your execution.”

John climbed the steps and stopped one step higher than Sherlock. “Well, since apparently the whole thing is one big secret, I’m a bit hesitant, yeah,” John said. The anger in his voice was clear.

Sherlock’s eyes flicked around to the people and vampires passing by them. “Come,” he said, and swiftly turned, making his long coat swirl around him. John hastened to follow. The vampire paused for a moment at the building directory. 

_Coat of Arms and Insignia._

_Repository Service._

_Conflict Resolution Bureau._

_Blood Registry Office._

They rode the elevator to the third floor and walked down a ostentatiously decorated hall. Sherlock pushed through the double doors without pausing.

The young blond woman, a human, smiled and asked politely, “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”

“Sherlock Holmes. We have an appointment at 1:00.”

The woman’s eyes widened and she stood up hastily. “Of course, Mr. Holmes. Please have a seat. I will let the Registrar know that you are here. Can I get you or your companion refreshments?”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked to John, who stood almost at military attention. “Tea,” he said and took a seat on a chair. 

John sat. He adjusted his tie. He fidgeted. 

The blond woman handed each of them a cup of tea with a bright smile, which John tried to return. He took several sips and smiled. What was it about tea that always made him relax? It occurred to him that Sherlock had asked for it for this very reason. The vampire hadn’t touched his.

An inner office door opened and a man stepped out. His three-piece suit was pristine and he exuded jovial confidence. He smiled at them. “Mr. Holmes. I am Stanworth Melbourne, Registrar.”

Both John and Sherlock stood, and Sherlock shook his hand. “This is Doctor John Watson.”

John shook the vampire’s offered hand, noting how warm his hand was. _Fed recently._ “Sir, good to meet you.”

“Please,” Melbourne said, closing the door behind them. He sat behind an impressively large desk where a large book lay open, and John and Sherlock took seats in front of the desk. “Now, I understand that you would like to register an official claim on this young man here.”

John’s eyebrows rose in amusement. _Young?_

“Yes.” Sherlock sat back casually, as if discussing the weather. “I feel that…that it is time. I would like to ensure that John carries the protection that my family can provide him, especially considering that we tend to find ourselves in dangerous situations relatively often.”

The other vampire nodded seriously, as if this were a perfectly normal thing for his appointments to say. “Of course, of course.”

“Dr. Watson, have you considered the general ramifications of this ritual?”

John gaped at him. _What ritual?_ “Erm, I suppose I’m not entirely sure what those would be.” He shot Sherlock a glare, which was pointedly ignored.

“Ah. Well then. This claiming act will ensure that others of our kind will know immediately that you are under the protection of another vampire, and more generally of the Holmes family.” He leaned forward and said in a falsely low stage whisper, “Not a bad setup, young man.”

John gave him a tight smile.

“Still, some humans…object to it.” Mr. Melbourne shifted some papers on his desk unnecessarily.

“Why?” John asked.

“Well, I suppose it could be seen a mark of ownership….which certain political groups, who shall remain nameless, dislike as a matter of conscience.” He shrugged elegantly.

John thought of his acquaintances. The human ones. He couldn’t imagine many of them having anything negative to say. He was, after all, in the service of a vampire under contract. How much choice did he actually have? He shrugged in return. “I try not to get involved too much in politics.”

Sherlock snorted.

“Do I take it that you agree to this, then, Dr. Watson?”

“Do I have a choice?” John asked, voice tinged just a bit with resentment.

Mr. Melbourne frowned and beside John, Sherlock froze, eyes focused on the book on the desk.

“But of course!” the Registrar said. “Though it would seem that not completing this would make Mr. Holmes uneasy, you are not legally obligated to do this. If you read the details of your contract, the agreement does not allow for bonds and claims made without your volition. In fact, you _cannot_ form a bond with Mr. Holmes while in the year under this contract.”

John sat back and considered. “Ok. So what exactly does _this_ claim involve?”

Melbourne’s eyes flickered to Sherlock and back to John. “Mr. Holmes will mark you with his personal sigil. It will be permanent, but not visible to the naked human eye.”

John glanced at Sherlock. “Wait, permanent?”

“Well, it _is_ possible to remove should the connection become wholly undesired.” Melbourne frowned at him. “But such a procedure is…painful at best.”

“But it’s only visible to other vampires. And if it’s permanent then I would always be – be protected by him, right?”

“That is correct.” He sat back slowly, leveling John with his intense gaze. “It is never untaken lightly by one of our kind because of the long-term responsibility it entails.”

John sat back, thinking about it, and glanced at Sherlock. The vampire looked back, unblinking eyes intent on him. “Ok. Yes, I agree.”

Sherlock relaxed into his chair but said nothing.

“Excellent. We’ll just take care of the preliminary paperwork and such first,” Melbourne said, slipping back into his jovial demeanor. “I’m sure you won’t be in any condition to do so afterwards, hmm?”

John frowned. _What the hell does that mean?_

The Registrar looked down at the book. One page was complete, the other empty. He smiled. “Ah, the last individual to come here from your House was your elder brother, Mycroft. I assume that they are still happily engaged in each other’s company?”

“To my knowledge, you assume correctly,” Sherlock said, clearly annoyed at the small talk involving his brother.

“Excellent. They were such an interesting pairing. Not one you’d expect, but then I suppose sometimes we find the parts of ourselves that are missing in someone thoroughly different….Now Mr. Holmes, you have your personal sigil?”

“Of course,” Sherlock said. He reached into his collar and brought out a gold chain with a small oval pendant swinging from it. John looked at it curiously as he placed it on the desk.

Melbourne carefully examined it, nodding to himself with a smile. “Excellent. Alright, picture first. John if you could just stand over there… good.” He held up a camera and took several pictures of John, smiling a bit awkwardly in his bespoke suit. The Registrar printed the picture and placed it carefully in the book. He then carefully began to transcribe information onto the page using an old-style pen with a nib that he periodically dipped in to a well of black ink.

_Date of birth. Place of birth. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Under contract claimed by Sherlock Holmes since October 4…._

John watched as the vampire carefully summarized him on the page. “Location of mark?” he asked, looking up at Sherlock.

“Behind his left ear.”

“Of course. Your family’s traditional location.”

Sherlock glared at him, and John could very well imagine that this wasn’t so much Sherlock’s choice as Mycroft’s. Or perhaps Mummy’s.

“Well then, that’s that. Now let’s proceed. Mr. Holmes, if you will. We’ll need at five drops each.”

Sherlock stood up swiftly and held out his hand to John. John stood and let Sherlock hold out his left hand. Looking him in the eyes, the vampire cut into the tip of John’s finger pad with one extended fang. John winced slightly, but didn’t resist as Sherlock held his hand palm up. He then bit into his own finger.

Fascinated, John watched Sherlock squeeze several drops of blood from each finger in turn and let them drop onto a blank space on the book’s page. Their blood combined on the page and then Melbourne produced an eyedropper and squeezed two drops of something onto the blood.

“It’s a coagulant,” Sherlock said, answering the question John was about to ask.

“A fast one by the looks of it,” John said, peering at it.

Melbourne carefully placed Sherlock’s sigil onto the blood and pressed it in. When he pulled it away, the sigil’s image was visible in the drying blood.

The Registrar turned the book around. “Before we proceed, please review this page and confirm that everything is set to your satisfaction.”

John looked over Sherlock’s shoulder. The sigil was a stylized lion, claws out and facing the left, with a book lying open over it. A single eye looked up from the center of the book. John smiled as he recognized what must be Sherlock’s nod to knowledge and observation. His personal sigil.

“Everything appears to be in order. John?”

John quickly read through the information on him. His eyes lingered over the opposite page, where Gregory Lestrade was listed as claimed by Mycroft Holmes. His deep brown eyes smiled up at him. Mycroft’s sigil, also marked in blood, depicted the same lion but with a coiled snake in front, its head rising and tongue sneaking out.

“Um, yeah. Everything looks fine.”

“Excellent, then let’s proceed, shall we?” Melbourne left the book lying open and gestured to them to follow him. He walked through a small side door and into a side room. This room was comfortably decorated with several plush chairs and sofas. A side table held several drink options, including, John noted, scotch. A fire burned bright and hot in a fireplace.

The Registrar carefully place the sigil in a metal bowl held over a candle. The candle was pure white and burned with several wicks making the flames touched the bottom of the bowl. The sigil was placed so that the chain hung over the side of the bowl. John watched the flames lick at the metal with a frown. His mind was starting to follow a rather uncomfortable path of thought as to what was about to happen. He clenched his jaw and stood up straighter in military style.

“Mr. Holmes, take as long as you and your John here need. Please ring me via that button there,” he pointed to an electronic base on a table next to a sofa, “when you are done. I will need to inspect the mark to ensure that its placement and image match the registry. Then you will be free to leave. When you’re finished, there is a private exit through that door. Your driver can meet you outside of the building.”

“Thank you for your help. And for seeing us so quickly,” Sherlock said, shaking his hand. 

“Of course, of course. Should you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Dr. Watson,” he said, shaking John’s hand, “Good luck. You’re in good hands. The Holmes’s are a good family to be associated with. And it appears that Mr. Holmes here will…take care of you.” He winked and John tried to smile back.

When the door closed and they were alone, Sherlock looked at the sigil being warmed by the flames.

“Is that for what I think it’s for?” John asked, trying not to sound slightly hysterical.

“Possibly,” Sherlock replied. He watched John intently.

“So this would be the _unpleasant part_ , I take it?”

“Yes.” Sherlock pulled John to him and cupped his face. “I asked you to trust me. It will…it won’t be painful for long. I wouldn’t do this if it didn’t make you _safer._ _Please_ , John. I need you to understand.”

John frowned up at his master. He rarely thought of the vampire in such terms, but it occurred to him that perhaps Sherlock Holmes needed him to approve of and agree to this as much he needed to feel that John was safe. “O-ok,” he said. He licked his dry lips nervously. “What do I need to do?’

Sherlock gently kissed his lips, making his touch soft and gentle. He pulled away after a few heated moments. “Take your jacket and tie off. This will be easier that way.”

John did so as Sherlock sat on a sofa near where the heated bowl sat on a table. 

“Come,” Sherlock said simply and held his hand out. He positioned John so that he was sitting on the vampire’s lap, back to front. He pulled John flush against his chest. 

John closed his eyes and let his head fall back on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock caressed his neck and undid the top couple of buttons on his shirt. He ran a sharp fingernail down the skin, tracing the artery and eliciting a soft shiver.

“So brave, John,” Sherlock said softly. 

Sherlock eased John’s legs open so that they draped on either side of his lap and then opened his slacks. He mouthed kisses on John’s neck as he pulled out John’s half-hard cock. John keened softly and pushed his hips up.

“That’s it. This will make it easier.” John nodded and reached up and dug his fingers into Sherlock’s curls. “Hmm, maybe I should have tied your hands,” Sherlock said when John accidentally yanked on his hair.

John whimpered and missed the feral grin Sherlock gave him.

“So responsive,” Sherlock muttered into John’s neck as he set a moderate rhythm of fisting John’s cock. 

Part of John rebelled at the idea of the whole situation. He was spread out like a sacrificial virgin. _Marked like chattel._ In a public, ok semi-public, place for Lord’s sake. But half of John hummed along happily and urged his to spread his legs wider for this eccentric vampire. _Marked by Sherlock. Yes!_

John’s hips pushed up into Sherlock’s hand and he didn’t resist when the vampire let go of his cock and carefully titled his head to the right and forward. John tensed automatically. 

“So good, John. So…obedient.”

John whimpered as Sherlock began to tap into a part of himself he’d rarely looked at or accepted. He tilted his head forward more for Sherlock. “Yes. For you.”

“For me,” Sherlock echoed. Sherlock focused and allowed one nail to grow into a sharp claw. He sliced into soft flesh of his own thumb pad and allowed blood to ooze out. He then did the same to John and pressed the claw carefully down the skin behind his left ear. He ignored John’s hiss of pain and pressed his bloody thumb to the fresh wound, making sure that their blood mingled. Sherlock then picked up the sigil by the chain. It was now hot and he held it carefully away from them with one hand.

“Hold still for me, John.”

John nodded. “Yes, Sherlock.”

The vampire carefully placed his sigil against the blood-covered flesh behind John’s ear, ignoring the feeling of the metal burning his own skin and concentrating on holding John still. John jerked a bit as the hot metal seared into his flesh. The pain was hot and sharp and he screwed his eyes shut tightly, but this his military instincts kicked in and he held himself rigid in Sherlock’s arms.

After a minute, Sherlock pulled the sigil away and buried his nose in John’s hair. “It’s done,” he said softly.

John nodded in his arms and swallowed back a whimper of pain. _Fuck. Why does it still burn?_ “Please tell me that’s the only time we have to do this.”

“No, there’s no need to do it again.”

“Am I bleeding badly?” John asked as his medical training came to the forefront.

“No.” Sherlock held his head still and examined the cut. “It is already beginning to heal.”

“How-“

“My blood. That is half of the reason for adding my own blood. It is temporarily accentuating your natural healing process. It won’t be as fast as my own natural healing abilities, but it will augment it for now.”

John pondered that. There were any number of medical miracles waiting to happen with that bit of knowledge. “And the other half?”

“The marking. The claiming,” Sherlock said with a half-shrug. “Even after the wound heals, which it will, soon, others of my kind will be able to sense it. To…to smell it.” He slid his hand along John’s neck. “They will all know that you are mi-that you are under my care.”

John chose not to acknowledge the near slip-up. “Right,” he said with a swallow. “Ok. Are you sure that it’s healing? It still burns. A lot.”

“It is a part of the progression of healing. The protein strains in my blood are alien to your system, but they are helping nonetheless…It will subside soon.”

Sherlock pushed John’s legs closed, picked him up and placed him on the couch. He zipped up John’s slacks and reached across him to press the button that would summon the Registrar.

The door opened and Melbourne approached them with a happy hum. “Excellent! He doesn’t look _too_ much worse for wear. Now let’s see that mark…” Melbourne grasped John’s chin and, ignoring a warning growl from Sherlock at the touch, examined the wound. “Sigil is clear. Wound is clean….It looks fine. You are free to leave, Mr. Holmes.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said dryly.

The Registrar opened the door to his office and turned back to them. “Oh, and do take that young man home and take care of him, Mr. Holmes. He looks a bit peaky.”

Sherlock snarled at him at the thought of the other vampire impinging on his claim over John, but the door was already closed. He looked at John, noting the pale features and slightly clammy skin. He picked up John’s discarded jacket and tie.

“Come, John. Let’s go home.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I’ve decided that vampires drink tea. Or rather, can drink tea. Because you know what? I can’t imagine Mycroft Holmes, so thoroughly British, not drinking tea. Cheers.

It was late afternoon and Greg watched Mycroft pad around the kitchen from where he sat on a bar stool at the kitchen island. He gratefully took the offered mug of tea. The vampire sat next to him, mug of tea in his own hands.

“So. Bonding,” Greg said after a minute of silence.

“Mmm, yes. You said you have questions?”

“Well….I guess one is what’s involved? I take it it’s a bigger deal than the blood claim thing that we did in private? The uh, simul sanguis?”

Mycroft laughed. “Ah. Yes. We’re not so dissimilar from humans. We’re getting married. We’ll have a wedding. You’ll get to see Mummy in full wedding-planning mode. But then, afterwards will be some things that we don’t share with outsiders.”

Greg raised his eyebrows in question. “Like?”

“We will drink from each other, for starters. There is….well, there is something of a sexual component as well.”

“Like we have problems in that area,” Greg snorted.

Mycroft chuckled lightly and ran his thumb over the back of Greg’s hand. “Well, yes, but this will be a bit more…structured.”

“If it involves me on an altar like a virgin sacrifice…”

Mycroft barked out a laugh. “No. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been reading romance novels.”

Greg snorted. “Definitely not. So there will be some blood drinking and sex…” he paused and frowned. “Will, um, your mother be there for that bit?”

“The blood drinking, yes. The second part, most assuredly not,” Mycroft replied with a face. “For that we choose our witnesses. And my Mother is not one I would consider.”

“I’m in agreement with you on that one.” He shifted uncomfortably. “So…are there, I don’t know, consequences of this? I know it won’t change me into a vampire.”

“No. But you will find that there are a number of advantages. Your aging will become almost nonexistent. You will find yourself to be healthier and more energetic.”

“Not bad so far.”

“Also, you and I will be able to…feel each other.”

“What? Like reading minds?”

“No. More like the ability to sense each other. To be honest, those of my kind who are bonded have said that the sensation – the experience – cannot be described in mere words.”

Greg frowned. “Ok…”

“There are some very long winded poems on the subject. I’ll find them for you. In fact, there’s a book I’d like to give you to read that goes into the rituals in detail.”

Greg laughed softly and sipped his tea. “Ok. The bond sounds like a good deal to me, what with the physical changes and all. What do you get out it?”

“You, my dear Gregory. I get you.”

Smiling, Greg pressed his lips against Mycroft’s, feeling his love for the vampire well up in his chest.

“There is one more thing, Gregory, that you should know,” the vampire said, pushing him away.

Greg frowned when Mycroft looked away. Clearly something bothered him. He wanted to reach over and smooth away that frown, but resisted and let the vampire speak.

“I – I….Gregory, I’m a father.”

Greg’s mouth dropped open. Of all of the things he was expecting, this wasn’t it. “A father? Like with a kid?”

Mycroft nodded his head and pointedly didn’t look in his direction. “In my hundredth year, my mother despaired that Sherlock or I would ever find our mates. We have to have an heir, you see. We live for so long and real bonds are rare…” He paused and cleared his throat. “My mother asked that one of us sire a child. Well, being the older one, I couldn’t refuse the responsibility.”

“So you, what, bedded some female vampire and now you send child support?”

Mycroft’s laugh was low and mirthless. “Oddly, you aren’t far off the mark, if presenting it in a very crude light. No, it was a contract. More like a business agreement. Anna Kirenov was chosen by myself and my mother from an old vampire family in Russia. She was chosen for her blood, her intelligence, and her stature in our world. She was, is….what would have once been described by good society as accomplished.”

Greg wasn’t sure what to think of this description of a woman he’d never met. He suddenly felt jealous and inadequate. She sounded wholly unlike him.

“Anna and I stayed together until she gave birth. Xavier Leopold. My son. Our son.” Mycroft pulled out a portfolio and showed Greg a picture of a solemn looking teenager with sandy hair in a suit.

“At first we were going to raise him here, but then it looked like war – World War I – would break out any moment, and she took him to America, where they remain today.”

“So you and she….”

“Have maintained a good business relationship. She reports his progress to me. I see him periodically. He is currently in university at Harvard.”

Greg frowned. “He’s got to be too old for that.”

“You forget that we age more slowly than humans. This is his third degree. He’ll turn out like Sherlock yet.”

“You don’t, I don’t know, regret not raising him?”

Mycroft shrugged elegantly. “I suppose I wasn’t meant to be a father. Or at least, not one to a child born out of necessity with a woman I respect but don’t love.”

“Will I get to meet him?”

“Yes, if Anna is agreeable, they will come to our wedding.”

“That won’t be too awkward?” Greg asked.

“Not particularly. We are not remotely the first couple to be in this situation. Children born from such agreements are relatively common with the older families.” Mycroft watched Greg. “Are you – ok with this, Gregory?”

Greg shrugged and pushed down the feeling of disquietude. “I guess it won’t impact us as much as I first thought. As long as she doesn’t have any way to get between us.” He was surprised by the vehemence in his voice.

“Gregory, love, Anna is – she holds no place in my heart save for being the mother of my child and heir. She has, since then, found her own mate. Charles, her bonded, is much more suited to her than I would ever be.” He picked up one of Greg’s hands and kissed the front and back of the palm.

“How often do you see him? Xavier, I mean.”

“A couple of times a year. Eventually he will need to move to England to learn of his heritage and his responsibilities here. But for now he’s still young.”

Greg sat for a minute, thinking. “Thank you for telling me,” he said finally. 

“Thank you for understanding.”

Greg paused and eyed him. The vampire was leaning on an arm and he looked calmer than at the beginning of the conversation. “Feeling less tense, love?”

“Yes, quite.”

Greg laughed, voice low. “Good. Now, are you going to tie me up? Or do I need to threaten to go run some errands on my day off?”

Mycroft moved so swiftly that Greg didn’t have the chance to be surprised before he found himself pinned to the floor on his stomach, wrists held behind his back. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to threaten a vampire, Gregory?”

“Well now that you mention it –“

At that moment, Mycroft’s cell phone rang. The vampire actually growled at it for daring to disturb them. Still he reached for it while holding his lover down. Only four people had access to him like this, and one of them was pinned to the floor beneath him.

_Anthea._ “Mycroft,” he said clearly.

“Sir, you asked me to report to you on the claim registered by your brother today at the Blood Registry Office.”

“Ah, yes, thank you Anthea. I did ask for that.”

“He registered and completed an _simul sanguis_ blood claim on John Watson.”

“S _imul sanguis_? Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. I saw the Holmes family book personally to confirm it before phoning you.”

“Thank you. That will be all. I am not to be disturbed for the next couple of days unless England goes to war.”

“Of course sir.”

He hung up and considered for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand.

“Sherlock gave him that one, huh?” Greg asked from the floor.

“Hmm. Yes.”

“Are you surprised?”

“I considered it to be a distinct possibility. My brother has shown that John is more to him than a mere contract. Though I doubt John understands that.”

“Are you ok with it?”

“Well, I suppose I have no choice….” His voice trailed off. “And John is a – decent sort of human. I just hope that Sherlock understands his responsibilities.”

“I’m sure he does. He’s not stupid, you know.”

Mycroft snorted softly. “Oh, don’t I ever.” He quickly typed out a text to Sherlock before turning his attention to the beautiful man pinned beneath him. He ground his half-hard shaft downwards. “Now, about that _threat…”_

\---

_I have it on good authority that you chose to give John simul sanguis. How interesting, brother. –MH_

Sherlock snarled at his mobile. Mycroft was an interfering twat. He was sorely tempted to text something back that he knew was childish and biting. Possibly about needing to tie Lestrade down to keep him by Mycroft’s side. He restrained himself though, knowing that any such reply would only serve to encourage his brother.

He glanced at the hall. John had been sleeping for several hours in Sherlock’s bed following the claiming. He had read that humans needed to sleep after suffering a sudden pain like the burn. Technically, it was possible for John to go into shock, but he seriously doubted it. The man had invaded Afghanistan. He could just hear the man’s rhythmic breathing and heart beat from the front sitting room. Steady. Stable. Like John. Sherlock sneered at his own train of thought. _Steady like john? How romantic._

Emotions, connections. He _knew_ these weren’t strengths. They were weaknesses. They were so…human. 

He picked up his violin and began to compose a new piece, letting his thoughts guide the bow as it slid gracefully across the strings. 

\---

A fine sheen of sweat covered Greg’s body and his fingers clenched around the ropes binding him to the bed. He groaned as Mycroft paused his smacks to his arse cheeks and placed hungry open-mouthed kisses to his inner thighs.

“Myc. Please!!”

“Hmm.” Mycroft paused and pretended to think about it for a moment. “No. I’m not done with you yet, love.” Mycroft grinned up his fiancé’s body.

“Are you _sure_ you didn’t used to torture people for a living? You’re doing an awfully good job of it.”

“Why thank you, Gregory. I’m so glad you appreciate my skills.” He slowly pushed the tip of one finger into Greg’s back hole. He knew it was enough to tease, but not enough to actually stretch him.

Greg pushed his hips down silently asked for more, needy. “Please, Myc. Need more.”

“You don’t like my finger?”

“No! I mean, yes, I love your finger. But…it’s – it’s not big enough,” Greg panted, face flushed.

Mycroft smiled and pushed two fingers in. He paused and held them still, relishing the feeling of Gregory’s body pulsing gently around him. If he focused, he could hear his heightened heart beat and the air filling and leaving his lungs. 

Mycroft’s eyes flicked to his mobile on the dresser. It had been over an hour and Sherlock hadn’t responded to his text. He frowned. His mind leaped through any number of possible outcomes to the plan forming in his mind.

With a grin, Mycroft slicked up a butt plug. It was small really, but it was metal and heavy enough to be very distracting. He slowly pushed it inside Greg’s hole and left the bed. He typed a quick text to Anthea.

_Please confirm that my brother is at Baker St. –MH_

A minute later: _Yes sir. He hasn’t left since bringing John back. –A_

_Inform me if they leave. I will be visiting them. -MH_

_Acknowledged. I have informed your driver. –A_

Mycroft padded back to the bed and untied the ropes and gently rubbed Greg’s skin to get blood flowing again, placing soft kisses on his bare skin. After several minutes, he smacked Greg’s thigh.

“Come on, Gregory. We’re going to give my brother and John in Baker Street.”

Greg reached back towards his arse. “I’ll take out the –“ 

“No. I want you to leave it there.” Mycroft gave him a lascivious grin.

“Evil, evil man.” Greg sat up with a wince and began to pull on the clothes that the vampire handed him. 

“Yes, but you love me anyway.”

“Got me there,” Greg replied fondly. He walked a couple of paces and turned back to Mycroft with wide eyes. “There’s no way Sherlock will miss this!”

“Then you’ll have to try hard to appear perfectly normal,” Mycroft replied calmly before smacking his hip.

Greg moaned and buttoned up his coat. His long coat.

\---

The electric kettle clicked off and Sherlock approached it. He frowned. John always made the tea. It had been a rather long time since the vampire had made it. _How does John assemble it again?_ He managed to put together what he thought was a rather decent pot of tea. He placed the tray on the counter and was just reaching for a mug when a knock came from the door to the stairs.

“Ah, Sherlock. You _are_ home. I do hope we’re not interrupting anything.” Mycroft smiled obsequiously, umbrella in hand. He walked in and Greg Lestrade followed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Like you didn’t already know of my whereabouts, Mycroft.”

The elder Holmes brother smiled. “And how is John?”

“He has been sleeping, but he has begun to wake up in the past few minutes,” Sherlock said, crossing his arms.

“And you’re making him tea. So…attentive.”

“What exactly are you trying to imply, Mycroft?”

“Trying? Not in the slightest. I was merely pointing out that you appear to be taking on your responsibilities as a master of a human in your care as a contract.”

“And implying that –“

Greg sighed audibly. “Ok, you two hash out whatever feud you’ve got going. _I’m_ going to bring John tea and see how he is.” With that, Greg tried to walk steadily to the kitchen to pour a mug of tea. As soon as he was sure Sherlock couldn’t see his face, he winced. _Fuck. Did Myc have to use the heavy plug?_

The Holmes brothers watched him walk down the hallway with a mug of hot tea made the way John liked it.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he snorted. “You couldn’t keep your sexual escapades out of my home, brother?”

“Now now. I’m sure the impulse has crossed your mind before now.”

“Not with Lestrade, no.”

Mycroft smiled and silently fondled the wood handle of his umbrella.

“Why are you here?”

“A simul sanguis claim?”

Sherlock sat in the chair opposite his brother and picked up his violin and bow. “What of it?”

“Don’t play coy, Sherlock. You know you that vindicowould have been sufficient.”

“Simul sanguis is also sufficient.”

Mycroft snorted. “And carries substantially longer consequences and responsibilities. Do I need to be blunt? Why did you choose that claim?”

Sherlock paused, long fingers poised over the strings of the bow. His eyes flicked to the hallway that lead to his bedroom. “I felt that John deserves protection of our House. Regardless of his…connection to myself.”

Mycroft raised one eyebrow elegantly in disdain. “I see. Forgive me if I feel the need to point out that perhaps there are other reasons? Perhaps you find yourself wanting to protect him to this extent because you wish to…deepen your connection to him?”

Sherlock remained silent. He glared.

Mycroft sighed and re-crossed his legs. “Brother, I know I once told you that caring is not an advantage. I suppose, over time, that one can change his attitudes…”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That sounds like a change of heart.”

“Well. Yes. I suppose that I can admit to such an - alteration,” the elder Holmes said slowly. “This would seem to be an appropriate time to announce that I have asked Gregory to bond with me. And he has accepted.”

“Congratulations,” Sherlock said, allowing his voice to warm. “I am – I am happy for you, brother. I believe that he is a good match for you. Even if he is human.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft’s smile was slow to form, but genuine. 

\----

Greg approached the bedroom quietly and gently pushed the door open. John sleepily looked up at him from Sherlock’s bed.

“Hey, mate,” he said. “I uh, brought you tea.”

John frowned. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“Out in the front room having a war of words with Mycroft.”

“Ah. So you’re hiding in here.”

“Yup. Basically. Mind if I sit?”

“Sure,” John said as he sat up and blearily shook his head to clear it. He looked down and realized that Sherlock must have removed his clothes. He pulled the covers tight around his waist when he saw that he was only wearing pants. To cover his embarrassment, he picked up the tea.

“How are you feeling?” Greg asked after he _carefully_ sat down, hoping that John was too tired to notice his wince as the plug shifted against his prostate.

“Tired. I think.” John frowned and felt behind his ear.

“Ah. Same place as mine,” Greg supplied.

“You had the same…thing?”

“Marking? Yeah. It’s called a simul sanguis claim.”

“A what?” John asked, sipping his tea.

“It means combined blood. Yours and his. It’s, well, it’s kind of important to them.”

“That’s why it was put into that big Holmes family book, then?”

“Yeah. It’s…long term.”

“Wait. Wait wait wait. I didn’t just get _married_ did I?!” 

Greg’s eyes widened and then he barked out a laugh. “No. Trust me, you’d _know_ if you got married to a vampire.” He rubbed the back of his neck. _Hopefully Myc won’t mind if I tell John._

John sat back with a sigh of relief. “Does it look ok?” he asked, turning his head to the side.

Greg leaned forward and examined the burn mark behind John’s ear. “Yeah, it’s healing fine. You won’t be able to see it by the time the week’s out.”

“Anything else I should know about this? Sherlock’s not very, um, forthcoming.”

“Well, I can tell you that Mycroft and I were sort of surprised he chose that particular type of claim.”

John looked at him questioningly.

“According to Mycroft, plenty of vampires place registered claims on humans under contract. It’s an extra bit of protection. But this one sort of connects you to him.”

“For how long?”

Greg shrugged. “Until you die.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. So Sherlock must feel rather strongly about you.”

John snorted. “Not sure exactly _how_ he feels strongly.”

Greg smiled fondly. “You and I both know that the Holmes boys are more sentimental than they let on. I mean, I know they’re out there arguing right now, but for all of their bluster, they do have each others’ backs when needed.”

“I suppose you’ve known them longer than me. Things going well between you then?”

“Yeah. Actually, Mycroft asked me to bond with him – to marry him – last night.”

“Really?! Mate that’s fantastic! Congratulations!”

Greg flushed. “Guess I decided I can put up with his weird vampiric ways for a while longer.” He paused. “Ok. Hopefully they’ve declared an armistice for the moment. You feeling ok enough to get out of bed?”

“Yeah, guess so. Thanks for the tea.”

“Sherlock made it, if you’ll believe it,” Greg said as he stood up. “Yeah, I know,” he said at the look on John’s face, “wonders will never cease with these two.” He paused as he reached the door. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but Mycroft wants to see you.”

“Making sure I’m alive, I’m sure,” John muttered with a snort to himself. He sighed and ran his finger over the healing wound behind his ear. _Well, at least I’m not married to the git._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simul sanguis: Latin, vaguely translated as "together blood"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. Real life got in the way, and then I had difficulties getting this chapter written for some reason.
> 
> Warning for this chapter: The blood play gets a bit more intense, but it doesn't go into the horror field.

Dressed in his suit slacks and shirt from before and holding the mug in front of him like a shield, John cautiously walked down the hallway to the front sitting room. He could feel the tension the moment he stepped into the room. 

“Ah, John! I do hope that you are sufficiently rested and healed since your venture this afternoon.” Mycroft smiled obsequiously from where he sat in John’s normal chair. 

“Um, yeah. I am, thanks,” John replied as he awkwardly fiddled with the mug. 

Perhaps taking pity on him, Greg held up a teapot and poured more tea into John’s mug. “Here you go, mate. You look like you could use another cuppa.”

“Thanks.”

“Cheers. Can’t let a cold war get in the way of tea,” Greg said softly with a grin. John snorted.

The two humans turned and looked at the vampires. Sherlock idly played with his violin, looking bored, while the elder Holmes brother casually looked for all the world as if they were discussing the weather.

“Erm, I hear congratulations are in order,” John said, looking between Greg and Mycroft.

“Why thank you, John. That is most kind,” Mycroft smiled.

Sherlock dramatically rolled his eyes, but he appeared sincere when he said, “About time, brother.”

“Have you set a date?” John asked.

Greg opened his mouth to respond but Mycroft said, “We do need a couple of months to make the proper arrangements. Contact certain…people.” Greg coughed and flushed when the room turned towards him. “As I said,” Mycroft continued, “we need some time to make the proper arrangements.”

Sherlock smirked. “Was there anything _else_ you wished to discuss today?” he asked, sharp eyes noting how Lestrade pointedly did not sit down.

“Not at all. We simply wished to convey our concern about John’s welfare. And to communicate our news, of course.”

“Of course,” Sherlock muttered. 

Mycroft and Greg moved towards the door, the vampire’s hand on the latter’s lower back. Before walking out the door, Mycroft turned to his brother, who was standing now, poised to begin playing, and hissed softly, “Sherlock, as thrilled as I am that you’re taking responsibility of John, don’t you think it would be prudent to discuss these things with himself and with me ahead of time?”

Sherlock frowned. “I will when you cease interfering in my affairs, Mycroft.”

Mycroft smiled tightly. “Just remember, you now have someone else who is relying on you.” He paused. “Just as you are now relying on him.” With that, he turned and walked regally down the stairs.

Sherlock flopped onto the couch with a pout while John made himself busy in the kitchen and generally pretended that he hadn’t heard that last bit of conversation.

“So, do you, uh, approve of your brother’s choice in husband?” John asked after a couple of minutes, turning towards Sherlock.

“Yes,” Sherlock said after a pause. He turned his attention to a scientific journal. 

John opened his mouth to ask more on the subject, and then thought better of it. After a minute though, he said, “So…Greg mentioned that the mark you put on me, the….”

“Simul sanguis,” Sherlock’s deep voice interrupted him.

“Uh, right. Simul sanguis. Greg said that it’s not the usual mark vampires give humans under contract.”

Sherlock didn’t react, staring attentively at the journal. 

John sighed. “Well, Sherlock?” John leaned his hands on the back of a chair, fingers digging into the plush back.

“What?” Sherlock looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“Why did you choose this mark? Greg said it puts me under your care until I die!”

“There’s no need to be histrionic about it. Unless you plan to die in the near future.”

John sent his eyes skyward. “I just want to know…know why!” He gestured vaguely with his hands, flustered.

Sherlock stood up swiftly. He let the journal fall to the floor and John took a step back in surprise. The vampire stalked towards John and backed him against the door frame between the kitchen and sitting room. John looked up at him, eyes wide. He swallowed nervously. _Did I push too far?_

The vampire crowded into his personal space and held John’s chin in one elegant long-fingered hand. He paused, eyes flicking quickly over John’s face, reading every minutia. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and soft and fast. “John, when we first met, I told you that I…appreciate your unique blend of skills and abilities. I have since found, during our short acquaintance, that….” Sherlock paused and ran his eyes over John’s face again, “that you are too precious of a commodity to not protect. My blood will offer you more than a mere vindico blood mark would do.”

“A-a vinidco mark?” John asked, chin still held in Sherlock’s fingers. He swallowed.

“Yes, it’s a stupidly simple mark. A claim if you will. For that I would merely have needed to mark you with my blood in front of the Registrar. Rather…elementary,” Sherlock said dismissively. He ran one finger along the healing mark behind John’s left ear. 

John winced as soft pain bloomed in the wounded area at the touch of Sherlock’s finger, gentle though it was. The vampire frowned and pulled his finger back.

“So fragile,” Sherlock murmured. “So utterly…human.”

John smiled faintly and swallowed under that intense gaze. “Isn’t that why you like me?” he tried for levity.

Sherlock laughed softly. “No. Though I will admit that you smell divine.”

“Then why –“

“Hush,” Sherlock whispered before he leaned down and kissed him. 

John’s lips breathed open with a sigh and his hands gripped Sherlock’s arms. After a minute, one moved to Sherlock’s waist and he hummed as arousal bloomed in his belly.

Sherlock pulled back and rested his head against the wall next to John’s head. “John,” he pressed himself bodily into him, pressing him against the wall. “I believe I need you.”

“Need me how?”

“I need to _feel_ you, John. I need….” His breath brushed roughly against John’s ear, and he shivered.

John tilted his head to the side in blatant invitation. “Then take, Sherlock. Take what you need.” He swallowed nervously and his pulse raced. His eyes slowly rose and met the vampire’s.

“I do not wish to….that is,” Sherlock paused and swallowed. “I know that we have been somewhat intimate before now. I know that such – _things_ – are common when one of my kind claims a human under contract, but I do not wish to take advantage of you.”

John laughed. “Sherlock. Please. You really think I’d offer myself up if I didn’t want it?” He grabbed the vampire’s hand and pressed it against the bulge in his slacks.

Sherlock growled softly. He yanked John away from the wall and down the hall to his bedroom. He gently pushed John back onto the bed, and the man landed with a soft thump on the bed. 

John leaned on his elbows and looked up at him. He was breathing heavily and he watched as the vampire toed off his shoes and socks, all the while keeping his eyes on the man on the bed. John started to unbutton his shirt but Sherlock stopped him.

“No. I wish to complete that task,” he said, voice soft. Sherlock leaned down and unbuttoned the shirt, revealing the white undershirt. He allowed John to pull the shirt off before he pulled off John’s slacks and dumped them on the floor. “Lie in the middle of the bed.”

John scrambled to obey. His cock was hard and making a tent in his pants. 

Still dressed, Sherlock silently straddled John’s thighs, and John idly ran his hands over the expensive fabric of Sherlock’s slacks. The smile Sherlock gave him was feral and showed his sharp fangs extended. “If you’d like to back out, John Watson,” Sherlock said, his voice dangerously soft as he allowed the claw of one forefinger to grow long and sharp, “now would be a good time to speak up.”

“I told you, I want this, Sherlock. I-I trust you.”

The vampire silently ran the tip of his claw down John’s white undershirt, making the man beneath him hiss softly. He parted the material and revealed a thin line of blood slicing down the middle of his chest. Sherlock smiled and leaned down so that he could lick one long stripe up John’s chest. 

John watched Sherlock with wide eyes and then moaned softly when the vampire licked his chest. The skin healed up in front of his eyes with the help of the vampire saliva added by Sherlock’s sinfully sensuous tongue.

Sherlock smirked when he saw John’s reaction. It was dangerous, playing this game with the man lying beneath him. Some humans became addicted to the feeling of being hurt by a vampire and then the subsequent feeling of the skin healing quickly. _So_ _tempting_. _To watch him fall apart beneath me._

“How does it feel?” Sherlock asked, poised above him.

“Don’t you know?” John asked incredulously.

Sherlock shrugged. “I assume that, as a human, you experience a different sensation than myself.”

John stared up at the ceiling and swallowed. “It feels…odd. Both painful and…good – as the skin mends itself back together.”

“But you do not find it unpleasant.”

“No, not unpleasant. Just – strange.”

Sherlock assessed him silently. “You will tell me if anything becomes unpleasant.”

John nodded at the command and swallowed nervously.

Sherlock slowly ran the tip of his claw down John’s chest in various random patterns. He only pushed hard enough to cut the skin several times, and each time he carefully watched John’s face, mesmerized by the emotions that flitted across his features. 

After a few minutes of this, Sherlock paused. “Are you in pain?”

Breathing harder, John blinked up at him. “Sherlock, you’ve just cut me in 10 different places. Of course it hurts.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and he looked closely at John’s face, the way his pupils were dilated, his fast breathing. He leaned down and licked at one long red stripe across his belly and looked up the beautiful expanse of John’s skin to meet his eyes. “But do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no,” John breathed.

Sherlock laughed lowly and moved to lap at another cut, and then another, until John’s chest was whole and healed. He slithered down John’s body until he was poised over John’s crotch. “May I?” he asked.

John nodded, eyes wide.

Sherlock gently sliced through the thin fabric of John pants. John tensed up but felt no slice of pain, so he opened his eyes and looked down to the predator kneeling over his body. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock smirked up at him and lifted the cut material off of John’s hard cock. John was hard. Achingly hard.

“John, you said trust me?”

John swallowed. “Um, yes,” he replied slowly.

“Remember to stop me if necessary.” 

John’s breath hitched as Sherlock leaned down ever so close to his cock. He could feel Sherlock’s cool breath on his hot skin and he shivered. Icy steel eyes bore into him and John struggled to keep his eyes open to watch Sherlock’s fangs slowly descend and then gently pierce the side of his cock. 

John howled. 

Pleasure and pain sliced into him and danced up his spine. He shuddered, cock oozing pre-cum.

Sherlock’s eye slipped closed and he moaned in ecstasy. How could he have gone nearly 200 years without tasting this? _Utterly divine. I could lose myself in John Watson._

With a shudder, Sherlock let his fangs pull out. He quickly looked up at John’s face to assess his reaction. John’s eyes were closed and he was panting, but the way his hips were jerking slightly, it didn’t appear that he was in pain. _Quite the opposite_. _How delicious._

“Sherlock,” John breathed, “I need…I need….more.”

Sherlock nearly leapt off the bed in his haste to shed his clothes. Once naked, he knelt between John’s legs so quickly, John didn’t have the chance to shift on the bed. Sherlock grasped John’s thighs from underneath and spread them out and up. He stared down at John’s tight hole and ran the tip of a finger around it.

John shuddered and pulled his legs up even more. “Yes,” John said to the unasked question that hung in the air. 

Until now, Sherlock had touched him, frotted against him, given him so much pleasure….but he had never done so much as press a finger inside of John’s most private place. Sherlock watched him intently for a moment and then reached into the bedside table. He pulled out a new tube of lubricant.

“Turn over,” Sherlock said softly.

“But I want to see you,” John protested.

“This will be easier. I don’t wish to harm you, John. Please.”

John turned over. Without prompting, he pushed his arse up in the air and rested his head on the pillow. 

Sherlock’s body hummed in approval at the sight. John’s muscular sturdy frame was a piece of art in his eyes. He possessively ran a hand up John’s right thigh, eliciting a shiver.

“Beautiful,” Sherlock murmured.

John shifted, watching Sherlock from his vantage point on the pillow.

The vampire slicked up two fingers and pushed them into John’s anus. John’s breath hitched at the intrusion but after a moment, he pushed himself back, silently asking for more. Sherlock tried to practice patience. He was nearly 200 years old and had practiced restraint for years. _I can wait a bit longer._ _Just a bit._

“More. Please?” John asked over his shoulder. Sherlock’s fingers felt amazing as they opened him up. The vampire was surprisingly gentle _. Who would’ve thought?_

When John was again impatiently pushing back as his hand, Sherlock decided that he was ready. He made sure to use substantial amounts of lubricant on his cock and pushed just the tip of it into the tempting hole that was winking up at him. John inhaled sharply at the first intrusion.

“It will be easier if you can bear down on me,” Sherlock said.

John nodded into the pillow and tried to follow Sherlock’s directions . It felt…odd. He had fiddled around a bit with mates in the army, but those were one-offs, and he had never taken it like this. But Sherlock hadn’t fed recently and his skin was cool to the touch. John hissed when Sherlock’s cock rubbed along his prostate.

“This is hurting you?” Sherlock asked with a pause.

“N-no. Feels….good.” John laughed. “Really good.”

“Ah. Excellent,” Sherlock said. With that, he began to move, pulling his hips back and pushing back in until he had setup a steady rhythm.

Beneath Sherlock, John began to push his arse back, trying to impale himself on Sherlock’s cock with each thrust. He was blown over by the feeling of sheer strength and power that he felt from every point of connection between their bodies: Sherlock’s hips on the back of his thighs, Sherlock’s hands grasping his hips and fingers digging into his skin, and Sherlock’s cock forcing its way in and out of his body.

Sherlock leaned forward and settled himself over John’s prone body. He gently pushed John’s head to the side to expose his neck. The shifting of his weight had stopped the fucking, but he started up again. The thrusts weren’t as deep in this position, but it gave him access to John’s tempting neck. 

John looked up at Sherlock from beneath hooded eyes. He was being fucked for the first time in years, and his body sung with the competing feelings of pleasure and pain and fullness and being taken and owned and possessed.

Sherlock paused his movements and roughly held John’s head to the side. He bit down quickly, losing control of his self-restraint. John’s blood sang on his tongue. How was it this man managed to be so utterly interesting and erotic? He started to move his hips again.

Beneath Sherlock, John keened. His body was overloaded, but he hung onto consciousness with all of his strength. There was no way he was going to miss a moment of this. His world shrank to the dual points of sharp heat where he was pierced by cock and by fangs.

John came. Hard. He shuddered and cried out between their bodies and then went limp beneath the vampire. 

Sherlock pulled John harder into his embrace and pounded into his body hard as he continued to drink John’s sweet blood. He came deep inside of John’s body with a low primal growl, eyes glinting.

After, they lay panting and Sherlock gently laved the puncture wounds with his tongue. He also gently licked at the healing wound behind John’s ear from the day’s earlier marking. John shuddered with a bit of a wince.

“Sorry,” Sherlock said when John winced. “The marking was…necessary to me.”

“I understand. Just…do you really want to be responsible for me like this until I die? I’m just a washed up army doctor.”

“I do not believe that is true. You are far more than your experiences in Afghanistan,” Sherlock carefully covered John with a blanket. He ran a hand over the knot of scar tissue on John’s shoulder. “I could take that scar away, you know. I could cut you there,” Sherlock said, pressing his finger gently against the knot of scarred flesh, “and then lick you closed again.”

“No, please don’t,” John replied. He held Sherlock’s hand over the spot. “It’s a part of who I am.”

Sharp blue eyes looked into his own for a moment and then Sherlock nodded. “That is…acceptable.” He stood up and got dressed swiftly. “Sleep again, John. You need your strength.” He leaned over and reached out as if to caress John’s face and then stopped and walked out the door.

For several minutes, John stared at the door, as if willing the mystery of a vampire to walk back through it and explain himself. _What the hell are we doing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vindico: claim, lay claim to, arrogate, appropriate, assume, usurp


	7. Author's note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note

I've received a number of requests for this to continue. The truth is that I ran out of steam when life happened, and now I simply don't have any plans for it. I've tried to write more, but it goes no where. I did have an overall plot idea, but I'm having difficulty connecting one dot to the next. I may continue to add little scenes here and there, but consider the main story done for now. Thank you for reading. 

Cheers.


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